


Does the Government Love the Detective Inspector?

by LordSexington



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crime Fighting, I Don't Even Know, Love, M/M, Multi, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 06:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordSexington/pseuds/LordSexington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg has finally given up on his marriage and leaves his wife, will this bring him into the arms of the man he's been dreaming about for years? Will Mycroft finally admit his feelings for Greg? Why is Jim sleeping with Greg's wife? Are Sherlock and John going to admit how they feel for one and other? Will this story suck? Read to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm happy you've chosen to read this work, please let give me feedback or I'll never improve.

Greg sighed staring down yet seeing nothing as his hands absently peeled away the label from his ever present comfort the beer bottle. He was pretty sure that his marriage was over after that last fight they'd had, though Greg couldn't bring himself to care. Truth was that he hadn't been putting much effort into Millie and his relationship, not for six years. Six years spent longing after a man who only ever showed up when Sherlock was in trouble, not that it should be any other way. In fact Mycroft-bloody-Holmes shouldn't be showing up at all, he should be staying away from the crime scenes, the interviews, and more personally Greg's office. He had no right to continue popping up in Greg's life playing games with Greg's emotions and ruining Greg's marriage all while wearing that cool mask of indifference that Greg found so bloody irritating; or maybe Greg's traitorous mind whispered, maybe it's only irritating because you know how much you ache to wrap yourself around that man and make him come undone, to make him lose that mask if only just for a little bit, to show him he can relax around you, because you'd do anything for him.

Greg sighed again, it seemed to be the only thing he did anymore, sigh-mope-sigh some more. Maybe that's what had driven Millie to seek comforts somewhere else, she could probably sense that he didn't care for her anymore. So like any other normal human being-who wasn't resigned to lust after a minor government official while keeping an extremely platonic relationship with someone he was supposed to love-she had sought excitement and pleasure elsewhere.

Good for her, Greg thought bitterly, at least she wouldn't be too torn up at the thought of a divorce because they had to face it, they had fallen out of love long ago and it obviously wasn't coming back no matter how much money Greg wasted on couple's counseling. Once one spouse went out and shagged another pony in the barn you could safely give the relationship its marching orders, sure it could be fixed if both parties were willing to get deeply involved and try their hardest to keep it together, but that wasn't the case for Greg's marriage. Greg didn't want to try anymore, he was sick of trying; sick of holding a marriage together that would be better for all involved if it were just left to crumble.

Greg's head drooped down and his shoulders hunched in as if he were taking a beating from an invisible specter, but truthfully it was just the depression welling up and trying to overtake him. Greg considered letting it and he felt his shoulders slump in defeat almost completely before he pulled himself up again. He thrust his shoulders back and snapped his head up, resolve burning in his eyes; he had work to do tonight. He couldn't give in to the demons clawing at his brain, not yet at least.

No time for that, He thought as he pushed himself back from the bar staring around at the little hole in the wall that was only a block from his house, he was taking one last look around knowing it would be the last time in a while that he came here since Millie needed the house and the comforts it offered far more than he did. Yes, he would miss this place, it wasn't the classiest bar, but it had offered him warmth on the bad days when he craved Mycroft more than usual. This usually occurred after a particularly hard case that he couldn't share the details of with Millie because she had no stomach for such things. He knew Mycroft would have no problem hearing of these things.

"Really," Greg snorted. Anyone who believed that, "I occupy a minor position in the British government," line was truly dense. Greg had no real clue what Mycroft really did, but he knew one thing; whatever it was, it was about as far from minor as you could get.

Greg trailed a hand lightly down the bar as he headed towards the door and back to his home-no wait- it wasn't his home anymore, just as Millie would soon no longer be his wife. That thought didn't bring with it any true regret, it seemed that he had indeed moved on from her and he wondered when it had happened, no matter; what he did know was that it had nothing to do with Millie and everything to do with his love for a certain Government Official.

Mycroft was sitting in his office resting on his elbows with his hands pressed together in what everyone thought of as Sherlock's "thinking position." No one would guess that Sherlock had adopted the habit from his brother and that though Sherlock would never admit it, he cared somewhere deep down for the elder Holmes, cared deeply enough to use things he had learned from his older brother back in childhood before the rivalry had started.

Mycroft's thoughts were centered-rather alarmingly so-on one Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. This wouldn't be the first time Mycroft had found himself deep in thought with only that tantalizing little D.I. on his mind. He tried to mentally wrestle his thoughts back into working on the crisis in Africa to no avail. A mini-army was being raised right under the world's nose, but of course by the time the news reached the rest of the world it will have been taken care of and what would otherwise be news would seem to be just a few scare rumors before those too were stamped out of existence. Mycroft smiled to himself, he loved his job it gave him just the right amount of challenge and freedom. Of course it also had the added perks of far reaching power and the right team who would work with him and do anything he ordered without question.

His phone chimed and he smiled as his daily reports came in for Sherlock, John, and most importantly Gregory. Hmmm, it seemed that Sherlock and John still hadn't acted on their attraction for each other and were therefore tense and fighting because that was the only outlet they knew for their sexual frustration. Mycroft took pleasure in being the smarter brother because at least he could tell when someone was attracted to him, which was what made his reports on Gregory so hard to read because while he was completely obsessed with that adorable silver haired man he could see that Gregory paid him no mind accept as Sherlock's over protective brother. Gregory was married for Christ sake! He shook his head glumly while he scanned through the pictures of Gregory at his favorite bar. Mycroft had been noting a growing sadness deep within Gregory and while Gregory's sadness grew his drinking steadily increased.

It angered Mycroft that while Gregory was out dealing with this inner turmoil Gregory's wretched wife Millie had been out every few days screwing a man and then coming home to sleep in Gregory's bed as if nothing had happened.

She doesn't deserve you Gregory! Mycroft thought with a snarl as he gripped the edge of his desk so tightly he was surprised chunks of wood were not coming off in his hands.

But then again, neither do I my love. He thought sadly finally stopping his death grip on his desk.

He clicked the report closed and set his phone down dragging his mind back to dealing with the Africa crisis and away from those tempting thoughts of his little Gregory.

Greg's breath left him in a rush as he fell back onto the hotel bed. He looked around at the room taking in the single chair and desk with his laptop and suitcase resting on it.

I guess this will have to do for now, Greg thought resigned as he felt his body relax into the bed after what had been a long day followed by what was feeling like an even longer night.

That was easier than I had expected.

Greg had shown up back at his no longer home to find Millie in the Kitchen sitting at the small table waiting for him. Greg had paused in the entry way not quite sure what to say when Millie had stood and taken a deep breath then it all came tumbling out.

"I want a divorce Greg," She had stated softly, looking for all the world like she thought Greg would break under a gentle breeze.

He had nodded slightly to himself being once again reassured that this was the right thing to do.

"That's what I came back here to say to you," He said with a sad half smile.

"I've met someone," she admitted looking down in shame before finding her resolve somewhere near her feet and looking up again to stare into Greg's eyes, silently daring him to say anything negative about her affair when he hadn't touched her romantically in well over a year.

"I'm a detective Millie, I know," Greg said, bringing his hand back to rub his neck as he awkwardly cast his eyes about for something to focus on besides Millie.

He ended up starting at the small fruit basket hanging from the ceiling when he announced finally after an awkward pause of about five minutes, "I just came back for some things, I'm going to stay at a hotel until I can find a place and I'll text you the address when I know it."

Millie nodded her consent and Greg had set off toward the bedroom and began packing his suitcase full of clothes for work and anything else he felt he might need before he found his own place. He knew he could always come back for anything he missed, but he didn't want to experience the awkwardness that was draped like a blanket over the entire house.

No, he thought grimly, he would do anything to never experience this feeling again; the feeling of not being comfortable in his own home was not one he particularly cared for.

Greg was broken from his reflection of the day's events by a buzzing from the bedside table next to him. He picked up his phone squinting slightly at the harsh blue light it produced as he checked his text messages.

221B Baker Street, hurry. Freak has been busy.-Sally

Greg jumped out of bed and pulled on his trousers before tying out a quick message to Sally.

Be there as soon as I can. Keep everyone calm.-GL

Greg sighed as he finished shrugging into his shirt and began buttoning it up snatching his gun and holster from the desk he had set them on earlier. When he finished with the task of buttoning himself up, looks like tonight is far from over, pulling his suit jacket on over his shirt and shoulder holster, placing his gun lovingly inside it's carrier and tossing his phone and hotel key into his pocket while heading for the door and plucking his keys from the hook near the door. He slammed the door shut and took off down the hall towards the stairs as they were a much faster route to the parking garage, Greg never even noticed the man at the end of the hall who snapped a photo of Greg's form jogging the opposite way down the hall.

Mycroft frowned down at the picture on his phone's screen with bemusement. Gregory? Holed up in a hotel? Had he finally discovered his wife was an unfaithful tramp? How is he taking it? Mycroft was still pondering this when his phone chimed again. He glanced down and immediately became irritated; Sherlock could never give it a rest could he? It seemed his little brother had been experimenting with some rather volatile chemicals and had destroyed half of his own kitchen causing the sink to gush water and the electricity to short circuit. Mycroft sent a quick text to Athena to make sure the car was brought around for him as he took to his feet in a smooth rising motion and stretched his long arms above his head before grabbing his umbrella and coat as he walked out of his office and began the journey out of the building. Athena joined him halfway down the hall and smirked up at him before she went back to texting out orders for his people.

She was a truly great find, Mycroft reflected as he slipped into his car. Willing to take great leaps on her own if it was necessary, but also content to be under orders any other time; she was quite loyal too, which was a difficult thing to find in a place where everyone was constantly trying to one up each other in the pursuit of glory and power. Though Mycroft always won these games so he saw no real reason for the lackeys to try to best him, but it kept him on his toes so he did thank them for that.

Greg pulled up in front of 221B Baker Street and groaned aloud at the scene laid before him.

Sod it all, Greg thought while surveying the grim scene. There were men in protective yellow suits and police vehicles all over the street so that it seemed the entire world flashed blue and red. Greg looked up and noticed Sherlock's silhouette pacing back and forth in front of the window. He wondered where John had been while Sherlock had gotten up to all this trouble it wasn't like John to let Sherlock experiment with such dangerous chemicals while he was in the flat. As soon as Greg had finished that thought however it was answered by an indignant shout from behind the police tape.

"Oi, buddy! I bloody well live here!" Greg looked over to see John arguing with one of the lower ranking officers, fresh from the academy trying to prove his power over mere civilians.

It seemed John wasn't in the mood to have those particular buttons pushed by a man ten years or more, younger than him. Greg decided he should probably swoop in before John smacked the stuck up newbie right upside the head, but then Greg was still half hoping John would react before he managed to get there so Greg strolled at a leisurely pace silently begging to see the young man knocked down a peg or two. It was for the young officers own good, arrogance like that could get you in trouble on the streets and London needed more police officers. Crime was starting to be rampant in the streets, especially the drug trade.

Sadly, Greg arrived before the younger man could further insult John and he interrupted smoothly effectively silencing their argument.

"John, glad to see you, I didn't really want to go up there without you with me," Greg smiled at John past the young officer.

"Lestrade, yes nice to see you too, I came back as soon as I heard."

Greg nodded to himself, he had figured as much there was no way John would have let Sherlock do anything that stupid while he was in the house watching him. The young officer who had been blocking John's path had watched the encounter with narrowed eyes as if he still didn't trust John even with the Detective Inspector there talking to him. Greg sighed at the young man's obvious attitude and motioned John forward and through the tape. The young officer gaped at Greg as if Greg was doing him serious insult by not following his clear example of not allowing the man through, this set Greg's teeth on edge and he counted to ten in his head before he trusted himself to address the young man.

"Officer make sure to guard this, no one else is to be let in without proper paperwork. Do you understand?"

The young man assumed a rigid stance falling back on his academy days as he nodded and Greg walked off leaving John to follow him up the sidewalk and to the door of the flat. Greg paused at the door's opening as he noticed John was behind him muttering something angrily to himself. Greg turned and stared at John until John seemed to wear out his muttered tirade and looked up from the ground to meet Greg's eyes. Greg looked back at John searching for answers in his gaze. John cleared his throat.

"Sorry," He smiled sheepishly.

"I was just practicing what I was going to say when I let into Sherlock about damn near blowing up our flat," John continued.

Greg smiled as he reached out to place a calming hand on John's shoulder.

"Go easy on him, okay? I don't think he meant to, he was probably just bored." Greg said.

John snorted and Greg's brows pulled together confused at the anger in that gesture.

"Yeah right, he just wanted me to come back, he knew I would be out all night so he blew up half the damn flat so I would worry and come home after our fight." John said bitterly glancing away from Greg to stare angrily up at the window where Greg had seen Sherlock pacing earlier.

"You guys fought?" Greg asked wanting to pull John back to the conversation they were having so he could avoid an even angrier John.

"Yes we fought," John started in a loud and angry voice until he noticed Greg taking a step back in alarm then he immediately lowered his voice.

"Yes we fought," He started again softer this time.

"Sherlock scared away yet another girl I was chatting with and he tore my laptop apart looking for pieces to experiment with," John said in explanation and to Greg it did answer a few things he had been thinking about, but not simply the reason why John was mad at Sherlock.

Greg had wondered for some time now-and with that statement it seemed his questions had been answered-if Sherlock were interested in John. Now Greg could see that yes, Sherlock was interested in John, but now a harder question emerged, was John interested in Sherlock? The entire department had taken bets on whether or not this exact thing would happen and when and Greg had to admit when they had first gotten together it seemed like a sure thing, but then John had went off and insisted on dating women and most of the interest in the money pool had dropped as people had accepted that John was straight or at least quite comfortably situated in his closet. Greg still would have liked to see them together even without monetary profit. It would be nice to know Sherlock was being taken care of and it seemed that John the patron saint of acceptance would have to be the one to do it as no one else could put up with the man for more than an hour tops, even he sometimes pushed the envelope at two or three hours and he genuinely enjoyed the man's conversation and wit. Not as much as you would enjoy a certain other Holmes's wit, whispered his mind but he coolly told it to sod off because he didn't need reminding of that certain other Holmes as far as he was concerned his brain could piss off anytime it wanted to bring up Mycroft Holmes, so there!

Greg made a non-committal sound in his throat and stepped through the doorway hearing John step through after him.

Greg conducted his police business keeping John downstairs with him while Greg figured out what to tell John. Greg was watching the last few personnel leave and when finally everyone had gone Greg turned back to John; he needed to say this to John before John headed up the stairs to yell at Sherlock.

"John, I think you should take it easy on Sherlock," Greg held up his hand as he saw John was about to interrupt him.

"Let me finish, Good boy," Greg said smiling as John closed his mouth and crossed his arms leaning up against the wall to listen to what Greg had to say.

"Be gentle with him, I know he can be annoying and impossible but that's just part of his charm, he probably worries all the time that you are going to get up and walk out of his life forever and while you might be thinking that's stupid just remember that Sherlock has had a grand total of three people care about him his entire life. He doesn't understand what to do with his feelings so he shuts them off, but sometimes he can't. Sometimes he has to let them in and when he feels something it's probably one of the scariest feelings in the world for a self-diagnosed sociopath. When you go up there remember you have the right to be angry, but also try to not say anything you both will regret later." Greg finished and smiled sadly at John who would didn't know it, but his flat mate was in love with him and Greg had a feeling John had a few deeper feelings that friendship for Sherlock as well.

Greg marched up the stairs not knowing what else to say down there, hoping John would take his advice and that he could finish whatever business here quickly so he could head back to his hotel room to catch hopefully at least 3 hours of sleep before the day started all over again. Greg was standing in the doorway surveying the damage which really wasn't that bad considering it was Sherlock who had created it, but sadly the power was out in the kitchen and the flat was starting to smell of rotting…well Greg didn't really want to think about that but while Greg was thinking about how Sherlock had explained away the body part's existence and ignoring Sherlock's awful violin abuse two things happened simultaneously. First John pushed past Greg smiling reassuringly at him and Greg sighed happy that John had taken his advice to heart and secondly Greg finished his scan of the flat as his gaze zeroed in on a meticulously styled brown ginger head of hair resting back in a chair obscuring the owner's face, but Greg would know that hair anywhere, he'd had dreams about running his hands through the tresses disturbing them from their normally perfect state. Greg felt his face flush at that thought and his heart beat increased nervously as he realized he was in a room with two men who could read body language quite well and also had no understanding of what were and were not private matters not to be discussed in polite company.

Greg tried to force his thoughts away from panic and grasped at anything he could to save himself from his mind running back to the memories of Greg's many dreams and fantasies about a one Mycroft Holmes, the exact Mycroft Holmes who happened to be sitting only a few meters from him. Sherlock was studying John as he made his way across the room and when John chose a seat near Sherlock, Greg could almost see him preen. Yes, completely love struck how had Greg missed it before? But then Greg had other things to worry about as Sherlock turned to study him narrowing his gaze in concentration. Greg tried to open his mouth to demand Sherlock explain why he was looking at Greg like that and also what the hell he had thought he was doing playing with those types of chemicals, but before he could Mycroft asked for him.

"Sherlock, what did you think you were doing? Playing with such volatile chemicals-tsk-Mummy would be upset." Mycroft said and Greg could hear the smirk in his voice and it made Greg's knees weak to hear Mycroft speak when he hadn't seen or spoken to him in so long.

Sherlock stared hard at Mycroft before asking angrily.

"Playing? I was not doing anything so trivial as playing, I was checking for a very important reaction for my research-"

"Which is on?" Mycroft interrupted smoothly.

"None of your business," Sherlock snapped back fingers halting their abuse on the violin's neck.

"Sherlock," John said in warning as everyone knew how Sherlock was when he was angry, but no one here specifically wanted to find out what a man as powerful as Mycroft would be like angry, that was the equivalent of pulling a rabid tiger's tail in Greg's mind.

"Mycroft, I want you gone," Sherlock stated as he pointed the door Greg still stood in.

"I'm afraid I just can't do that dear brother, you see I am worried for your safety and I have vowed to protect you from yourself." Mycroft said in a tone that would stop all argument from any normal person, but Sherlock wasn't normal and apparently he liked goading already dangerous animals into action.

"Leave now or I will have Lestrade throw you out," Sherlock threatened.

Mycroft just chuckled darkly and said, "Our dear Gregory is welcome to try."

Greg's heart soared at being called dear in a sentence that Mycroft used and he had to work hard to keep the happy grin he felt inside off his face. He felt his face twitch for a second before he forced it back and luckily Sherlock was distracted enough by Mycroft that Greg didn't think he noticed.

"Lestrade, this man is trespassing remove him from the premises." Sherlock stated seeming bored.

Lestrade took half a step forward conflicted, not wanting to do take make Mycroft leave yet also not waiting to explain to anyone why that was. John saved him.

"Wait, Mycroft how did you get up here?"

"I flashed one of these," Mycroft said flashing a very official and important looking badge at the room at large before sliding it back into his jacket.

"Yes, well now that show and tell is over, I once again insist you leave my flat." Sherlock said dryly, glaring at Mycroft.

"And I of course once again refuse," Mycroft stated calmly.

"And I once again call checkmate by saying yet again, Lestrade remove this man from my home."

Greg stood awkwardly half way to Mycroft and half way to the door, he had no clue what to do. Should he do nothing and risk Sherlock figuring out about Greg's strong feelings for his brother or should he listen to Sherlock and risk insulting Mycroft and having him leave possibly angry at Greg. Greg couldn't stand the thought. So he just stood in the middle of the room frozen to the spot and waiting for someone to notice his indecision when finally Mycroft turned to face him and he pinned Greg even more to the spot with his stare. Those eyes that piercing blue; Greg's face flushed and he tore his gaze away quickly, but he was sure everyone now knew Greg Lestrade had a bloody school girl-esk crush on Mycroft Holmes.

Greg turned back to look at the group and he found John staring at him with his head cocked to the side in confusion and two bloody machines scanning every little detail about him, storing it on their 'hard-drives' as they tended to call their brains. His finger felt very naked and he wondered which brother would notice first, he hoped it wasn't Sherlock as Sherlock had no discretion and Mycroft at least had tact.

"Ah-ha!" Sherlock crowed leaping from his seat in victory, Greg sent up a prayer to whoever happened to be listening for his sanity to remain intact.

"Wedding ring," Sherlock stated smugly looking at Mycroft and smiling at him in contempt.

Mycroft's gaze zeroed in on Greg's left hand, "I see," he whispered almost to himself.

Greg watched Mycroft's face as events earlier that night all came back to him. He had sat alone at that bar for a few hours before making his decision and heading home to confront Millie. She had known it was time for them to split and he figured she'd soon be having the new man move in. He had packed up a large amount of his clothes and important things for work and gotten the heck out of there, but before had had pulled away the light from the streetlamp had glinted off his wedding ring and he realized he shouldn't be wearing it anymore. He had left the car running and rushed back inside to find Millie slightly crying, she looked up at his reappearance and smiled, the smiled slowly slipped off her face as she watched him slide the ring from his finger and set it carefully on the kitchen table in front of her. He had then leaned forward and brushed his lips across her forehead in good-bye and left trotting back out to his car feeling lighter than he had felt in months, but he assumed that was just the adrenaline, he'd find out when he showed up at the hotel. If he crashed it had been adrenaline, if not then he was really free.

Mycroft watched the emotions flit across Gregory's face and he knew Gregory was experiencing a flashback of sorts, probably back to the events leading up to the separation and loss of his wedding ring. Mycroft studied Gregory's face carefully trying to see how the memory was affecting him. It was obviously a bit of a sad memory Mycroft thought to himself as the light in Gregory's eyes dimmed slightly, a mutual thing he also noted as Gregory's lips stayed firm and then lifted into a smile and this made Mycroft smile as Gregory was showing a clear sign that he was glad the marriage had ended.

Gregory gave a slight start showing anyone who had been observing that he was back in the present and no longer lost in a memory. Mycroft couldn't believe it; did this mean he had a chance?

"Greg?" John asked confused by everyone's strange behavior.

Greg smiled at John's confusion glad he wasn't the only one who sometimes felt off balance at the speed in which the brothers' minds worked.

"I left my wife John," Greg said smiling sadly taking pity on John's ignorance; it wasn't his fault that the other men in the room were geniuses and had already reached this conclusion.

Greg could see John was opening his mouth to either apologize or ask why, Greg held up a hand to silence John.

"She was sleeping with someone else, don't apologize it would have happened sooner or later." Greg said.

"Besides, her and I fell out of love a long time ago," Greg said smiling sadly and looking thoughtfully out the window at the dark.

"Yes, well I did tell you she was shagging another man," Sherlock's deep baritone interrupted Greg's thoughts.

"Sherlock!" John yelled in shock.

"That is no way to speak to a man who has just left his wife for those sorts of reasons." John scolded while Sherlock did his impression of a sullen puppy.

Greg gave a harsh laugh in the back of his throat before saying, "It's okay John, Sherlock was right she was getting along with another man and I couldn't deny the evidence anymore."

Sherlock nodded in apparent approval as John turned to survey the damage to his flat and Mycroft continued to watch him narrowly.

Standing suddenly Mycroft announced, "I'm leaving, Sherlock do try not to blow up Baker Street before I get home."

On an afterthought Mycroft added, "Gregory I'll take you back to your hotel."

Greg stared open mouthed; Mycroft was offering to take him to his hotel? And wait, how did Mycroft know he was staying in a hotel? His mind answer that last thought for him, because it was sodding Mycroft and Mycroft knows everything!

Greg's mind floundered for a response before he stuttered out, "M-m-my car is p-p-parked out front."

Mycroft didn't seem disheartened at that and said simply, "I'll have someone deliver it, I need to discuss a few issues with you."

Greg swallowed thickly, that didn't seem like it would be a pleasant experience. Mycroft's wording suggested business, but his easy stroll and swinging of his umbrella suggested a less formal discussion. Greg sighed knowing that resisting Mycroft's wishes was as useless as trying to mix oil and water and began to follow Mycroft out.

Greg turned back to look at Sherlock and John, he could see John was waiting to scold Sherlock about the flat until after they left and Greg smiled before saying cryptically, "Remember John, what we discussed early."

Mycroft had wandered out while Greg had turned back and Greg followed shutting the door behind him, but not before hearing Sherlock crow, "Ha! Got Mycroft out!"

Greg also heard John lay into Sherlock for his behavior, but it seemed more reserved than the scolding the man normally gave so Greg figured Sherlock would survive the night. Rushing out of the flat Greg found the large black car already awaiting him at the curb and Mycroft's driver holding the door open for him. Greg flushed at being treated this way like he was something special. Scooting into the posh car Greg tried not to focus on Mycroft, it was damn difficult.

The ride began awkwardly as Greg attempted to look anywhere other than Mycroft while Mycroft chose to stare openly at the nervous DI.

Finally Mycroft cleared his throat and began, "About my brother."


	2. Chapter 2

"About my brother," Mycroft began.

Greg held up his hand, "No it's okay, I'm used to him being an insensitive sod."

Mycroft smirked, "Well yes, I suppose I should have realized you would be by now."

Greg smiled back openly at Mycroft, he couldn't believe it! They were talking and Greg wasn't stumbling over his own words like a girl talking to her crush for the first time. He was proud of that and he figured as long as the conversation stayed impersonal he would be fine. Yes, he could have a pleasant chat with Mycroft about his annoying sod of a brother and they would bond over…what, their agreement that Sherlock was an insensitive prick? Greg sighed, that was no basis for a relationship, then again who said anything about a relationship. Certainly not Mycroft and Greg realized that he had been getting a bit ahead of himself. He sighed again, Mycroft wouldn't want a relationship with him, he was damaged goods. A divorced man not even out of the closet to anyone besides his parents and siblings and all they knew him as was bisexual. What who they say now that Greg had left his wife. Everyone had always liked Millie.

Mycroft suspected that Gregory didn't know that he had fallen to silence. Mycroft watched unabashed as the light faded from Gregory's eyes clearly his thoughts were turned inward in turmoil over the recent development of losing his marriage. Mycroft wanted to ask about it, wanted to know what had pushed Gregory over the edge, what had broken this particular camel's back?

He agonized over whether it would be inappropriate to ask about it, he finally decided that if it was Gregory could simply refuse to answer him. They were friends of a sort after all, they had known each other for quite a while and gotten to know each other somewhat over the years of Sherlock's working for the Met. Mycroft had a burning curiosity to know just how Gregory was taking all of this, so yes he would ask. Squaring his shoulders back and drawing himself to his full height in the car to give him an authoritative look he set to the task of getting Gregory's attention.

What if they're mad? What if they don't want be around anymore, after all they said they were okay with my sexuality, but they had seemed a bit over joyed that I chose to marry a women in the end. What if-"Gregory."

Greg's head snapped up and his startled gaze fell on Mycroft leaning toward him obviously trying to get his attention. Greg was horrified that he might have offended Mycroft with his obvious lack of concentration for anything Mycroft may have been saying.

"I'm sorry what were you saying?" Greg asked resolving to focus on Mycroft's conversation; he could worry about his family issues later.

"I hadn't yet begun speaking, I was attempting to catch your attention," Mycroft said smiling at Greg.

Greg smiled back, slightly flustered at receiving a smile from the politician.

"Well, uh you have my attention now, please say whatever it is you have to say," Greg invited.

"I intend to, but I would like to caution that though I am asking this, if you wish not to answer then I will press no further on the subject."

Greg was surprised; Mycroft was giving him a choice not to answer? He wondered what the question could be about and pondered the thought of there being a question in the world that Mycroft Holmes didn't already have the answer to.

"Alright," Greg agreed twisting in his seat to face Mycroft.

Mycroft seemed to hesitate for a second before his eyes hardened with resolve and he opened his mouth to ask.

"Tell me about what finally made you leave her, how long have you danced with the idea that you no longer loved her?"

Greg was shocked; in fact his mind seemed to shut off for a good ten seconds while Mycroft's words sank it. He cared about why Greg had left his wife? He cared enough to ask why Greg left his wife. He couldn't believe it, Greg looked at Mycroft for a long time studying him, of course he was no Holmes, but he was a Scotland Yard Detective and one did not work with a big show off like Sherlock Holmes without picking up a few skills of their own, not without being completely inept.

Greg opened his mouth to answer, until he felt his car slowing down. Greg looked around and sighed they had reached the dingy hotel Greg was staying at, he moved to leave but Mycroft stopped him with a hand on his wrist pulling him back down to his seat.

"I'd still like to hear the answer, if you can spare a minute," Mycroft said softly looking into Greg's eyes.

Greg's wrist tingled where Mycroft was holding it and he felt a strange falling sensation behind his naval as he stared back into Mycroft's eyes. They were so blue and Greg noticed his body shifting forward as if he was about to press his lips to Mycroft's.

No, dammit!

Greg moved back and tugged his wrist from Mycroft's grasp.

"Yeah alright, I suppose there's no real sense in getting any sleep tonight anyway." Greg admitted, not realizing that his words had sounded like a suggestion for something else, until after he took in Mycroft's flushed face and adverted gaze and he replayed his words in his mind.

"Oh, no, that's not what I meant," Greg exclaimed embarrassed and slightly curious as to what Mycroft would have done had he been serious, probably kicked you out of his damn car, before having you arrest yourself. His mind supplied. Yeah probably, Greg admitted before sifting his gaze back to Mycroft who seemed to have gained back his composure.

Mycroft cleared his throat, "Yes well, by all means continue."

Greg blushed just a bit, lowering his head for a few moments before raising his head to look at Mycroft again; Greg drew in a deep breath of air and began.

"She was cheating on me Mycroft and I could no longer ignore the clues staring me in the face. "

"What clues?" Mycroft interrupted to ask.

Greg's head fell down to avoid looking at Mycroft this part hurt, unlike most of the other things.

"Recently she has lost the weight she allowed herself to gain in her sedentary lifestyle of as a part time real estate agent and housewife. She's bought tons of new clothes and lingerie, which I was certainly never seeing and she was always going out with her 'friends' and returning late at night well after any club would have closed." Greg was working himself up, but he couldn't bring himself to care, he was upset, dammit!

"Then of course there was your little brother always telling me that she was cheating and the sudden over-protectiveness for her phone. I guess I just slowly warmed to the idea, until I thought I was the one who had noticed all the clues first." Greg admitted softly.

"I worked so many hours, so long and hard to make that relationship work, but Mycroft I have to admit the last few years, I've let it fall apart, I stopped trying. I fell out of love with her many years ago and when I saw that things were getting really bad and that she was out looking for someone else to give her what she wanted, I couldn't even be arsed to care. I let my marriage fail and you know what? I'm not sorry." Greg finished his piece looking off into the distance with a determined look.

Mycroft smiled at Gregory though he knew Gregory couldn't see it. Gregory didn't love his wife and though he was clearly upset about his marriage ending Mycroft knew Gregory would be happier in the long run. Happy to have gotten what he wanted Mycroft decided to release Gregory.

"Thank you, Gregory," He murmured softly before opening the door and moving to stand on the pavement allowing room for Gregory to climb out.

Mycroft didn't want Gregory to go, but he knew Gregory had work in the morning as did he. Mycroft decided that since Gregory was now a free man he didn't have to feel bad for lusting after him and he could maybe even try to woo him, if indeed Gregory could even be wooed. Mycroft planned to be seeing much more of the Detective Inspector and vowed to treat him better as a friend than his cheating wife ever had.

"This little ride has been lovely; perhaps we could get together again sometime?" Mycroft asked trying not to show how hopeful he was.

Gregory's lips twisted in a smirk, "Sure and maybe next time I could interrogate you."

Mycroft frowned, "I gave you the option to not answer."

"Right, but I know how you Holmes work. You would have kept pressing and pestering me trying to get me to tell you." Gregory accused while Mycroft's frown grew.

Greg couldn't believe it; he was standing in front of his hotel arguing with Mycroft Holmes, the man who had just asked to see him again even if it was platonically it was still a step in the right direction. And he was standing there arguing with him! It had all started with his smart-arsed comment. He hadn't meant it in offense he was just feeling a bit vulnerable at the moment having just spilled his guts in the back of Mycroft's luxury transport car.

Maybe next time I could interrogate you, Greg cringed as his brain replayed his words. Definitely not the smartest thing he'd ever said when speaking to someone he liked and didn't want to anger. And Mycroft had frowned at him and said plainly as if talking to someone a bit slow that he had given him the option to not answer. But Greg had wanted to talk, wanted to spill his guts to someone and when that someone was Mycroft it was all the better, but Greg couldn't admit that so now here he was in an argument outside his hotel with Mycroft Holmes. He was a stubborn man at the best of time and he imagined that Mycroft was used to getting his way without asking, this was not something that would be won. One would give up for the sake of the other and enjoy the secret fact that they were still right.

Mycroft sighed breaking Greg's inner monologue of self-scolding. Greg looked up into Mycroft's face and waited as it was clear he was going to say something.

"Perhaps you are right," Mycroft finally said, smiling at Greg as if he were a cute animal.

Now Greg was sure he'd fallen down a rabbit hole somewhere on the way back to his hotel with Mycroft. Not only had he been standing outside a hotel fighting with Mycroft after Mycroft had asked to see him again, but he had won that argument. Greg smiled at the absurdity of it all.

Gregory was smiling at him and Mycroft took it as Gregory smiling at his allowing him to win the argument and Mycroft's smile grew.

"So, would you still be open to meeting again?" Mycroft asked, unsure about the footing of their relationship since they had just had a bit of a spat.

Mycroft watched Gregory's smile grow and he nearly forgot how to breathe, maybe Sherlock had been right. Breathing didn't seem all that important right then.

"Sure." He agreed before offering his hand to Mycroft.

"It's a deal."

Mycroft stared for a moment at the offered hand before clasping it in his own and shaking it smiling.

"Deal," He agreed before letting go and turning to walk back to his car.

The car's engine started up again when he closed the door and he rolled down his window to get one last look at Gregory standing in front of the hotel still.

"Good night Gregory," He said simply before rolling his window back up and tapping the glass separating him from his driving to indicate he was ready to leave. As he drove away he looked down at his hand fondly and then squeezed it remembering the warmth of Gregory's hand pressed against his as they had shook.

Greg stood and watched the taillights of Mycroft's car fade into the night. Only once the car had turned a corner and vanished from sight did Greg realize he had his hand clenched at his side as if trying to hold onto the ghost of Mycroft's hand. Greg sighed turning around to look up at his hotel before walking toward it and entering through the door. He hoped his car would be returned before he had to get up for work tomorrow.

Greg undressed slowly and deciding on showering in the morning headed to bed. He sat down on the edge of the bed to plug in his phone to charge and hung his head in exhaustion. Pushing himself up onto the bed to settle his head on the pillows to sleep Greg let a moan of happiness escape his lips. Nothing was better than the feel of lying back in bed after a long day, allowing all of his muscles to relax and allowing sleep to wash over him. Well perhaps one thing was better, the feel of Mycroft's hands on him even with something as simple as a restraining or a hand shake. Greg's arm still tingled from the warmth that was Mycroft Holmes's skin. With that last thought floating through his mind Greg fell asleep.

It was dark, with a path clearly highlighted with candles. Normally Greg wouldn't follow something as obvious as this, officers who did things like that normally didn't live long, but something urged him on. Against his normal instincts Greg followed the candles up a grand staircase, taking care to make no noise. He still wasn't certain who could be awaiting him at the end of this trail.

Walking down a long hallway until the candles ended Greg paused at the closed door. It was a dark oak wood and seemed rather intimidating, this version of him didn't seem to have all of his normal instincts since he pushed the door open almost immediately and stepped inside. Greg gasped in surprise at what he found. His trail had lead him to a large room which was lavishly decorated, but he couldn't bring himself to enjoy all of the charm the room had to offer because he couldn't seem to keep his gaze from returning to the rather large bed in the center of the room. Greg swallowed nervously unsure of what to do now that he had been effectively lead to this room, he could guess what was supposed to happen, but even that wasn't definite as he didn't see another person anywhere else in the room.

Stepping further into the room Greg spun around in fright as he heard the door behind him slam shut. Standing next to the door though was another reason for Greg to be feeling nervous. A rather wicked and sinful looking Mycroft Holmes stepped from the shadows wearing a red silk shirt and tight fitting black dress pants. Greg felt his pulse race and a curl of smoking desire settle low in his stomach.

"Gregory," Mycroft grinned, "So glad you could make it."

Greg felt his mouth go dry Mycroft's voice had dropped an octave with his apparent desire and he was eying Greg like he was a particularly juicy steak he'd like to sink his teeth into.

"Y-yes, well I'm not exactly sure how I got here," Greg admitted attempting to look anywhere but Mycroft or the rather imposing bed.

Mycroft tisked at Greg, "Well that's not very good form now is it, Detective Inspector?"

Greg found himself unable to answer as his mind processed what he was hearing, Mycroft Holmes was teasing, and the person he was teasing was him! When finally Greg managed to answer he could still barely manage more than a stutter.

"I well I-I uh."

Mycroft interrupted by chuckling.

"Yes, someone seems a bit flustered," Mycroft grinned pushing away from the wall and prowling toward Greg.

Greg backed away from Mycroft, but wasn't sure of where to go and so he simply kept on his straight backward path with Mycroft stalking him in front, eyes watching Greg's every move like some sort of wild predator.

Greg's eyes widened as he felt the backs of his knees bump against the large bed and swallowed audibly as Mycroft continued stepping forward stopping only when there were less than three inches between them.

"Why Gregory, if I didn't know better I'd say you were scared of me," Mycroft teased, pretending to be hurt.

This time Greg managed to shake his head no, though he made no move to answer Mycroft, he wasn't ready to say what his mind was saying. No, I'm not scared of you Mycroft, Greg's mind cried. I'm scared of my reaction to you.

Mycroft smiled seeming pleased that Greg at least contradicted him. Mycroft pressed forward the last few inches and Greg not expecting him to fell back onto the bed in his attempt to pull away.

"My, my Gregory you're so forward, I like it," Mycroft teased looking down at Greg from his place standing above him.

Greg felt himself hardening at the tone in Mycroft's voice, so aloof and teasing. He could hardly take it and he hoped Mycroft wouldn't notice, but of course Mycroft was one of the world's most observant men and he quickly caught on to why Greg was trying to pull his shirt down to cover himself more.

"Why Gregory, I'm glad you're finally catching on," Mycroft said as he reached out a hand to stroke down Greg's thigh.

Greg lay on the bed dazed as he watched Mycroft trail his hand down Greg's thigh and underneath his clothing Greg was on fire, burning for Mycroft Holmes.

Greg was transfixed as he watched Mycroft's hand come back from just above his knee and stroking upward closer and closer to Greg's crotch. Greg drew in a startled breath just before Mycroft's hand would reach the point of no return and then let out and irritated growl as Mycroft's hand trailed away again.

"Fucking tease," Greg growled looking up into a smirking Mycroft's face.

"Oh I'm the tease am I?" Mycroft whispered as his hand changed direction again and headed straight toward Greg's hard cock.

Greg panicked and using his arms pushed his body across the bed away from Mycroft's sinful hand. Mycroft chuckled as he straightened from his bent position.

"My point exactly," Mycroft said as his hands went to his shirt to unbutton the top three buttons.

Greg found himself watching those nimble fingers and wondering what they would feel like on his skin or inside him. Mycroft looked at him just then and grinned clearly seeing the direction his thoughts were going.

"Change your mind?" He asked stepping towards Greg and moving to kneel on the bed. Greg's cock gave a twitch of arousal as he watched Mycroft finish unbuttoning his shirt and shucking it to the floor. Greg's mouth watered at the sight of Mycroft's slender stomach leaning forward unwittingly Greg brought his hand up to trail a hand down Mycroft's skin.

"Gregory, you have no clue how long I've wanted this," Mycroft gasped when Greg's thumb moved to twirl over his nipple.

Greg smiled glad to be in control for now, of course that didn't last long. Moving forward Mycroft grabbed Greg's shoulders and pushed him down onto the bed pinning him as he moved to straddle him.

Greg moaned and shifted beneath Mycroft as Mycroft settled his delicious weigh again Greg's hard cock. Greg pressed his hips upward his erection digging itself into Mycroft's plump arse. Mycroft was running his hands over Greg's clothed chest before he quickly unbuttoned Greg's shirt and pushed it apart revealing Greg's muscular stomach to Mycroft's eyes. Mycroft made a sound of approval before running his hands over Greg's bare chest and bending to lick each nipple into a hardened nub.

Mycroft slowly licked down Greg's body, stopping to trace each individual muscle of Greg's stomach before shifting lower to lie between Greg's legs. Mycroft followed a trail of dark hair with his tongue before stopping just above Greg's belt line and rubbing back and forth with his tongue, teasing Greg to near madness.

"Please Mycroft, I need you," Greg whispered in a broken voice.

Mycroft's only answer was to grin before moving a hand to make quick work of Greg's button and zipper. Mycroft pushed himself up to hover over Greg as he yanked down his trousers and boxers in one harsh tongue, Greg gasped as his cock sprang free.

Greg watched Mycroft studying him and felt his cock harden painfully as Mycroft looked at his cock and licked his lips as if contemplating how a dessert would taste. Leaning forward Mycroft stopped with his mouth mere inches from the head of Greg's cock and licked his lips again, the phantom of the air current from the movement ghosting over the head of Greg's cock.

"Oh my god, you're trying to kill me," Greg complained head falling back in frustration.

Greg heard Mycroft chuckled and before he could ask what Mycroft found so dammed amusing Mycroft was pressing forward and lapping at the head of Greg's cock.

"Oh god," Greg groaned eyes shut tight, teeth gritting against the urge to thrust into Mycroft's mouth.

Mycroft didn't chuckle this time as his mouth was otherwise employed by the task of taking Greg deeper into his mouth, using his tongue to lick the underside of Greg's cock head. Mycroft sucked harder before cupping Greg's balls and fondling them gently.

Greg's hips shifted up of their own accord and Mycroft allowed it, soon Greg was fucking Mycroft's mouth, thrusting his hips and watching as Mycroft managed to take most of him down his throat. The sight was beautiful and made Greg want to come, in fact Greg could feel his balls tightening and the familiar weight settled in the base of his spine.

Greg moaned, soon he would come but he wanted to be kissing Mycroft when he did. Greg stopped thrusting his hips and instead hauled Mycroft up to his lips and kissed him rutting against him. Greg was about to come when Mycroft pulled away screeching a strange beeping sound at the top of his lungs-.

Greg woke hard and frustrated to his phone screaming bloody murder as it's excuse of a wake up alarm. Greg groaned pushing the sheets off his body to sit up and clenched his teeth as the blankets slide across his sensitive cock. Great, he'd been having wet dreams like some bloody teenager. Sitting up and turning off his phone alarm Greg sighed as he stood stretching and grunting as he cracked his neck. He could feel it, today was going to be a long day and it began with a cold shower.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to mention that I clearly don't own Sherlock and it belongs to Steven Moffat and the lovely Mark Gatiss.

"Sebastian, come here," Jim purred from the opposite side of the room.

Sebastian came stalking forward out from the shadows eyes glinting maliciously as he eyed the squirming man tied to the chair next to a standing and madly grinning Jim. Sebastian took in the poor sod's bleeding form and panting breaths taken from around the ball gag in his mouth.

"Finish him, I'm bored," Jim ordered evenly, no inflection in his voice, giving no evidence that he felt anything toward the man he had just tortured for nearly four hours.

Of course, that was one of the reasons why Sebastian liked Jim, Sebastian reflected as he moved toward the bleeding man dragging the handgun from its resting place along his spine and cocking it with a soft click and a sly twist of his lips that he supposed could qualify as a smile.

The man's eyes widened in horror as Sebastian approached, the silver of the gun's metal shining slightly in the warehouse's low lights. He chuckled quietly as the man twitched and tugged at his restraints, but he knew the man's struggle was in vain, he had tied the knots himself, the prey was going nowhere, well nowhere while he remained alive, Sebastian amended as he walked behind the man and pressed his gun to the base of his neck where the brain stem and spinal column met.

Sebastian's eyes met Jim's for a moment and Jim nodded giving his consent to end the man's life. That was all Sebastian had been waiting for. He quirked a quick grin to Jim before pressing his finger against the trigger. A soft whisper of air from the silencer was all that was heard in the warehouse, a slumped form all that was seen. Jim's purred gratitude and a quick but surprisingly sweet kiss all that was offered.

Jim left, Sebastian stayed behind to clean up and to ensure that the body was dropped in its special place. Sebastian finished, he was ready to go home, ready to return to Jim, he stopped and growled. Jim wouldn't be home, he was with his new project, the Lestrade whore, Millie. Sebastian's teeth clenched, what he wouldn't give to put a bullet in her head, the only pleasure he got from this was knowing it was to bring down Sherlock Holmes and the Scotland Yard, for that he could handle Jim smelling of another person when he climbed into bed and he gladly handled Jim's whispered demands to erase her scent from his skin, leaving his own. He would gladly do that any night Jim asked.

#

Greg wondered if Mycroft had returned his car, he hadn't said that he would return Greg's car, but Greg knew Mycroft was an extraordinary man and could do what other more ordinary men couldn't or wouldn't. Deciding to place trust in Mycroft's abilities Greg turned to walk to the parking garage. On the journey to the parking garage Greg couldn't keep himself from worrying just a bit that his car wouldn't be waiting for him, but Greg knew Mycroft was not one to do anything by halves and he had offered Greg a ride home, so surely it wasn't a stretch to assume he would have secured someone to drive his cruiser back to the hotel as well, right? Greg felt silly for his worry as he walked out the door of the parking garage and found his car parked in prime parking right next to the door. He grinned and shook his head in disbelief, Mycroft was simply amazing.

Greg walked into New Scotland Yard yawning and clutching at his cup of coffee like a life line. He could not remember a time he had been this tired and sexually frustrated at the same time. He sat at his desk with a thump and groaned softly when he looked at the huge stack of reports that required his attention.

"Fantastic," He murmured under his breath resting his head in his hands.

"Well you look awful," Sally remarked walking into his office and placing another stack of folders on top of the already rather large pile.

Greg opted to just groan again and look at the large pile with barely suppressed anger. Sally gave him a sympathetic look before turning around and leaving his office. Greg pushed himself up from his chair and crossed the room to shut the door before turning back to his desk.

Halfway through his morning and his fourth cup of coffee Sally burst into his office.

"We've got a call," She said simply.

Greg jumped up and grabbed his coat following Sally to his cruiser.

Once inside Greg simply asked, "Where?"

"Fished him out of the Thames about thirty minutes ago," Sally replied.

A few minutes later she added, "In the south end."

…

Greg's pressed his lips into a thin line; he knew now why the finders had immediately labeled it homicide. It seemed the poor bastard had been tortured and then dumped in the Thames, he wondered who had done this, it seemed to be a new style or at least not one he recognized from any of the other dead bodies he had seen recently, but of course though he had an eye for most details and patterns he like any other human a limited amount of storage space in his mind for such things, well any other human who wasn't a Holmes.

He accepted that he would need to call Sherlock in on this and he figured it might be a good idea since Sherlock had blown up his flat yesterday and he assumed things would be tense between Sherlock and John for a while, maybe a case would allow them to re-bond and return to their functioning as the halves of each other's souls. He moved to grab his phone from his pocket when a restraining hand appeared on his arm; he looked up to find Anderson looking at him with his brows furrowed.

"You're going to ring the freak? Before we've even had time to properly examine the body?" He asked dumbfounded and barely keeping the anger from creeping into his tone.

Greg sighed and jerked his arm out from under Anderson's hold.

"Do you recognize this method of torture? Do you have any helpful ideas about the identity of this killer?" He interrogated pulling himself to his full height to sneer at Anderson.

"No?" He continued.

"Then keep your trap shut about me calling in the only man who might," Greg finished, snapping.

Anderson's eyes narrowed for a few moments before made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and stormed away.

Greg sighed as he texted a quick message to Sherlock.

Body. Tortured. Thames, South end.-GL

He waited a few moments before his phone beeped and he looked down to read Sherlock's reply.

We will be there in thirty minutes.-SH

Greg rubbed the back of his neck as he read the message and moved away from the body to deal with crowd control until Sherlock arrived, hopefully with a lead.

#

Sherlock arrived, Greg felt himself smile as he watched John trailing behind Sherlock, faithful as ever. He wondered when they would tell each other, that there would never be another. That the thought of living without the other made their combined hearts break.

Probably the day you tell Mycroft the exact same thing.

Oh so, when hell freezes over?

Basically.

Greg walked toward the body lying under a sheet on the river bank, clearing a path for Sherlock to follow him through. Sherlock walked over to him eyes lit aflame with excitement in the possibility of a new specimen to study, the possibility of new data to be saved.

Sherlock turned away from Greg to examine the body and he watched as Sherlock's face contorted into a grimace in his effort not to smile as he surveyed the body.

"Fantastic," Greg heard him murmur to himself as he took in the wounds that riddled the body.

Greg wondered what it would be like, just to live inside a Holmes' mind. He wondered how it would feel to look at someone and know their entire life story just by the state of their clothes. Greg could hardly fathom it, but he supposed when one grew up with such an ability one probably wouldn't think much of it. Sherlock straightened and looked back to Greg allowing a brief smile to grace his lips before he worked to suppressed it once again.

"Tortured, obviously, dumped in the river around nine hours ago, already dead of course. There are many wounds on the body, but those were made simply to inflict pain because the man holding the knife enjoys it. The killing blow though, was from another hand. The two men worked together it seems, one tortured the other waited in the shadows until he was needed, he then delivered a smooth killing blow to the back of the neck. Quick, easy, a trained assassin's favorite shot." Sherlock raddled off the details faster than Greg could write them down; he knew though that Sherlock would gladly repeat them again, though he would pretend to be put out, the man just enjoyed letting people know that he was clever.

One thing didn't make sense though, "Two men?" Greg asked, how Sherlock could figure that out from a quick look at a mutilated body Greg wasn't sure, but he would probably be right, Greg just needed him to explain.

"Obviously," Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"It's not obvious to me either Sherlock," John said carefully, standing a safe distance behind Sherlock.

Sherlock whipped around and whined, "John, not you too! I can't have both of you being complete idiots on the same day!"

John's brow furrowed in anger for just a moment before it smoothed back out to its normal position and John said sarcastically, "Well Sherlock you'll just have to explain it to us seeing as how we're both obviously being extra stupid today just to make life harder for you."

Sherlock sniffed as if John's sarcastic statement seemed highly plausible to him and waited a moment longer before launching into another explanation.

"Two men, clearly, it is obvious when looking at the wounds that the first man-clearly the first man as all of these wounds were made prior to the man's death-enjoyed this, he was in fact doing this for fun. This is obvious from the fact that instead of the long straight military lines of a paid torturer these cuts come in no particular pattern and are often curved playfully at the end. Yes, he was clearly enjoying this and the second man h-"

"How do you know he didn't just get, I don't know, bored with it and kill the man?" John interrupted.

Sherlock signed, "John please try not to contradict yourself in your own deductions."

John and Greg both peered at Sherlock and he sighed loudly again.

"Really Lestrade, John if I could stand to be in the same room with that fat-arsed brother of mine for more than a minute I would seriously consider taking up his company instead of yours, at least he doesn't need every other sentence explained to him." Sherlock muttered.

Greg was slightly offended by the insult about Mycroft, sure Mycroft wasn't a twig like Sherlock, but Mycroft wasn't fat either, in fact he was quite willowy as well, but with a softer face and build instead of Sherlock's sharp angles. He opened his mouth to defend Mycroft on his behalf, but before he could John jumped in.

"Well Sherlock, you can't," John snapped and Greg noticed the fires of rage burning in John's blue eyes.

"And I really don't see where you are getting off calling anyone here stupid as you cannot go even two weeks without blowing up something in the flat or as has been discovered most recently, blowing up the flat itself!" John's breath was coming in quick pants and his outburst had drawn some attention from onlookers, John looked around seeming mortified before he straightened his back and turned away calling over his shoulder.

"I'll be in the cab!"

"John!" Sherlock shouted moving to follow after him.

"Don't bother Sherlock, I'll talk to you in the cab," John called back before picking up his speed and quickly disappearing in the crowd of people gathered around the crime scene.

Sherlock seemed disheartened as he continued proving to Greg exactly how he knew there would be two killers to find not one, well technically only one actual killer the other it seemed if Sherlock's deductions were any indication had just been there for fun.

Sherlock sniffed once and then continued relaying his earlier train of thought to Greg.

"I'm going to assume you had the same question as John, about why this first man didn't just kill the man himself. The answer is in his entire purpose for being there. He was there to enjoy himself, to have fun. As time went on the cuts go less and less playful, the torture had started to feel like work. He got bored and it's no fun to kill an already weak and disabled man so he called someone else in to finish the job. This other man whomever he happened to be, killed the man and most likely did the dumping of the body. The first man the real brains or boss of this little operation probably wasn't even there for the end of this man's life and he certainly wasn't there for the body dump, he had already moved on, deleted the man from his mental to do list."

Sherlock frowned slightly bending over so he could peer at the wrists and ankles of the man.

"This makes no sense; the man who tied this man up before he was tortured made perfect and precise knots. And clearly these two men were smart enough to know that a body would float, so if they were trying to dispose of this body they would have weighed him down or placed him somewhere else. So why would they-OH! Yes! Perfect!" Sherlock crowed jumping up from his stooped position.

Greg was still very confused and stared blankly at Sherlock to get that message across; Sherlock sighed, but smiled complacently at Greg.

"Don't worry Detective Inspector it took me a moment too, so I'll just explain. They wanted you to find this body."

"Why," Greg asked dumbfounded.

Sherlock assumed a thoughtful look at that question and seemed to consider it briefly before saying, "I'm not quite sure yet, I have seventeen ideas so far, now twenty-five, I'll let you know when I find out though, deal?"

Sherlock was grinning like a fool and holding out his hand for Greg to shake, but Greg simply stood staring at Sherlock stunned, how could he possibly read so much from a naked man? Greg had assumed he would simply get a few basic leads from calling Sherlock in, but it seemed that Sherlock read more in this body than any case like it before.

"Why this body?" He found himself asking aloud.

Sherlock didn't seem to have heard him. It seems Greg's staring had caused Sherlock to calm down a bit, but now he seemed to be staring off up the bank of the river in the general direction John had wondered out in. Poor sod, Greg found himself thinking.

"I didn't mean to upset him, I just wanted things to go back to normal like before last night," Sherlock lamented turning back to look at Greg.

"Why don't you tell him that instead of me?" Greg asked, wondering why Sherlock was opening up to him at all.

"I can't," And the look Sherlock gave him was almost enough to break Greg's own heart though it confirmed what he already knew, Sherlock Holmes consulting detective extraordinaire was in love with army doctor John Watson.

Greg wanted to clap and cheer because finally, finally someone had broken down those walls and finally someone had worked their way inside and Greg couldn't think of a better person than John Watson.

"Why can't you?" Greg asked, looking into the surprisingly emotional gaze of Sherlock Holmes.

"He'd move out, he would reject me," and all of a sudden Greg knew they weren't just talking about an apology anymore.

Greg sighed, how did his life turn into this? Normal life all his life and now approaching fifty he life had turned topsy turvy. He was on the fast track to a divorce, in love with on Holmes, and giving relationship advice to another.

"Look Sherlock, I'm not going to claim I know what John would do should you decide to lay that on him," Greg began using his voice to show Sherlock that he understood at least what Sherlock was talking about, "but-and I'm sure you've probably realized this by now- John is a nice bloke and he's definitely not the sort to go leaving his best mate over something like that."

Sherlock looked thoughtful for a moment before his face twisted in a sneer; Greg looked around to see Anderson on the way across the crime scene headed directly toward them.

Bonding moment neutralized.

Anderson stormed over and Sherlock reared back to his full height to sneer down at Anderson when he came in close to push a finger against Sherlock's chest.

"Freak," Anderson began, "I see you're here contaminating my crime scene, again"

Greg massaged his forehead with his fingers and cringed as Sherlock opened his mouth for a retort.

"Anderson, I see you're here bringing down the IQ of the general populace, again."

"You listen here fre-"

"Anderson," Greg barked and Anderson turned around his mouth twisted in a frown.

"Yes sir," He asked curiously.

"Go back to the yard, you're no longer needed here, you can have one of the other techs pick up evidence, but I won't have you aggravating the only man who can give us a lead, now go."

Sherlock grinned as he watched Anderson flounder for a moment before narrowing his eyes in angry and storming off. Greg looked down at the body before snapping his fingers and gaining the attention of two other forensic techs, he ordered them to bag and tag everything and informed them that he would need the report on his desk by tomorrow at the latest, they nodded their consent and Greg walked off leaving Sherlock to follow him.

"I need you to do something for me," He began, looking back at Sherlock who silently followed him up the river bank, "I need you to work whatever it is going on between you out with John, alright? I can't have you two in a tiff every five minutes while you're on a case, I won't lose either one of you because the other got mad a decided to storm off on their own and do something stupid."

Sherlock huffed behind him for a few moments before saying, "Yes, I agree. I'll be sure to have them sorted by tonight."

Greg grinned, "Great."

He left Sherlock to walk to the cab waiting down the road as he himself walked back to his cruiser to radio Sally that he was ready to leave and he had paper that needed done. She responded that she would catch a ride back to the yard with one of the other Yarders at the crime scene and Greg approved it as he climbed into his cruiser. He rested his head on the steering wheel for a moment before starting it, he was tired and he knew that waiting for him back at the Yard was just another mountain of reports waiting for him to look them over and sign off on each one. He thumped his head lightly on his steering wheel before he felt heard his phone beep. He reached for it, expecting the worse, another murder, but now it was just a text that read.

Tough day?-MH

Greg was shocked, Mycroft had texted him and not because Sherlock had found himself in jail again, but to inquire about his day, the world really had gone round the bend recently. He sat in his car staring at his phone for a full two minutes before he responded.

A bit, yours too?-GL

He sat in his car waiting for Mycroft to respond, he hoped no one from down at the crime scene would realize he hadn't left and come to inquire as to why he was just sitting in his car staring at his phone instead of heading back to Scotland Yard like he had said he was doing. His phone beeped again and Greg looked at the message anxiously.

Less so than yours I imagine, a simple desk job cannot possibly be as stressful as being head Detective Inspector.-MH

Greg scoffed at that, surely Mycroft didn't believe that anyone believed him about occupying a minor role in anything. Greg decided to call Mycroft out on the lie.

Come now Mycroft, we're texting, it's the easiest time to be truthful and we both know that you don't really have a simple desk job.-GL

The reply was faster this time.

Alright you caught me, well I am a bit stressed, you know how it is, someone's always trying to be the next national security scandal. Sometimes I think it's just a ploy, really they just want to meet me.-MH

Greg laughed aloud inside his car, Mycroft was funny, something to add to his mental list of Mycroft's good traits.

You're right of course, their all doing it just to meet you; I'm in quite the same position myself actually. I find all of these people committing murders and really all they want is a chance to meet me, I keep telling them that they could have just chatted me up at the pub but they seem to prefer getting arrested.-GL

Greg grinned this was fun, he was joking with Mycroft Holmes, he took a moment to appreciate the unreality of it all while he waited for Mycroft to respond.

Oh dear me, is that how one gets meetings with you? I'd like to avoid the arrest record so I believe I'll just ask you since I have the benefit of having your number, would you still like to get together some time, dinner? Say tonight at 7ish?-MH

Greg read the message in disbelief, joking and a date all in one conversation; luck seemed to be on his side today despite the lack of sleep. He quickly typed out his answer.

Sounds great!-GL

Fantastic, I shall pick you up at the Yard at 7. I know you'll still be there, I saw that mountain of reports when I was there for a meeting earlier. Sadly the man whom I was hoping to meet seemed to be out at a crime scene so I had to text him.-MH

Greg read Mycroft's last text with such a large grin on his face that his cheek muscles hurt from the strain. Mycroft had wanted to ask him in person even going so far as to go to his work to do it and when he had discovered Greg not there he hadn't given up and had texted him instead.

See you then.-GL

Greg placed his phone down then and checked his watch, ten fifteen, great he had plenty of time to work on those reports and he may even be able to finish them providing no significant distractions were created.

…

Significant distractions came in the form of Sally Donovan and Anderson storming into his office at one just as he had been standing to take lunch at the café down the street.

"Sir we don't think you should put freak on this case," Sally began saying in his doorway just as he had been pushing away from his desk.

"And why not," Greg asked slightly exasperated since he had received the same speech from Anderson twice already today.

"You saw him at the crime scene today, he had that look in his eye, the one he gets whenever he sees the really sick stuff, the look he gets when he's enjoying himself," she hissed in disgust and shuddered.

Greg couldn't tell if the shudder was for visual effect or because she was really so haunted by the look in Sherlock's eye, he had to admit to himself it was a bit creepy the way Sherlock seemed lit from within whenever he examined a particularly gruesome and well planned murder. But Sherlock closed cases and had yet to actually commit a murder as Sally so often announced that he one day would and so Greg kept him around. He was useful and if Greg truly allowed himself to be sentimental for a moment he would say that he had grown rather fond of a certain curly haired consulting detective.

Not as fond as you are of his brother.

Oi, shut it you!

"It's the chase," Greg defended, though he wasn't quite sure himself, but that was what he told himself at night and besides he had seen Sherlock act remarkably human, more often recently since the addition of Dr. Watson, but even before then he had caught Sherlock at his more human moments and each time it firmly planted in his mind the thought that Sherlock needed this work and that there was no harm in giving it to him because no matter what the other Yarders would say, the never saw him at those human moments and until they did they weren't allowed to comment on the man's supposed sociopathic behavior.

Anderson scoffed from behind Sally, "The chase, please! He was grinning when he stepped away from examining that body! I know what I saw."

Greg cringed, he had hoped no one besides John and he had seen that because it was a tough reaction to explain.

"Yes, but that's because he was imagining the chase of tracking down a human that clever."

"I don't see what was so damn clever about that body, somebody just enjoyed torturing that poor bloke and when they got bored they killed him and dumped him." Sally said as she placed her hands on her hips.

Greg grinned against his better judgment, oh great now Sherlock had him doing it.

"You see that's why it's so clever because that's what it looks like to us normal folks. But to someone like Sherlock who can see what's really going on it was quite clear that two men were involved in that killing and both were smart enough to keep evidence from surfacing and giving them away, but they allowed it to anyway."

"You're saying that they want to be caught?" Sally asked.

"I'm not sure, Sherlock said he had about twenty different ideas, but that he'd get back to me when he had narrowed it down, but my best guess is that, they didn't want to be caught, in fact they probably think we can't catch them and they're just taunting us with this body."

Sally and Anderson nodded along with his assessment and then launched into more questions and ideas for the general murder. Greg was glad he had managed to stop them from complaining about Sherlock by distracting them with information Sherlock had given them, the man proved his worth over and over again. The conversation lasted over an hour only stopping when Greg's stomach gave a loud grumble and another detective came in his office to dump another large pile of reports on his already large stack.

"Where do they keep coming from?" Greg groaned.

Sally chuckled and said, "From the deepest pits of paperwork hell boss."

"We'll leave you," she offered standing up with Anderson from the seats they had taken on the other side of his desk.

"Thank you," he smiled as they shuffled out.

He eyed the stack again, if he ate now he would be satisfied, but he probably wouldn't finish the stack today, he looked at the stack again and chuckled sadly as he pushed away from his desk, if he stayed here and worked on them until seven he still probably wouldn't finish and of course there would always be more tomorrow. He headed out to the café down the street to enjoy a nice late lunch of a chicken club with chips.

…

Greg rubbed his eyes and looked down at his watch, it read 6:50, he smiled time to meet Mycroft for dinner. Greg glanced at the pile of reports on his desk he had made a bit of a dent in the mountain, but he would still need to work on them some more tomorrow before he managed to finish them and then of course, there would always be more. Pushing away from the desk he grabbed his coat and headed out his office to the elevators. Everyone seemed to have cleared out already which was normally the case as he usually worked pretty late, but he never realized how early they all seemed to leave. Of course he rarely emerged from his desk before after eight during the weekdays, so he supposed it made sense he would never notice.

Greg walked out of the Yard and smiled as he took in the sight of Mycroft Holmes leaning against a sleek black sedan in a blue pinstriped suit with a lazy smile on his face. He looked absolutely perfect and Greg felt his cock twitch just a bit as he noticed what the suit did for his already long body, lengthening his legs to impossible lengths. As Greg walked across the pavement to Mycroft, Mycroft straightened from his relaxed posture and opened the door to the car.

Greg smiled warmly at Mycroft when he greeted him with a warm, "Hello."

Mycroft gave him a sly grin and said, "Good evening Inspector, ready for a night of exquisite food and fascinating conversation?"

"Someone is quite full on himself isn't he," Greg observed as he took a seat in the sedan, scooting over for Mycroft to sit as well.

Mycroft sat in the car and shut the door, tapping on the glass to signal the driver to go before turning back to Greg grinning.

"Certainly, after all you agreed to have dinner with me and that was seventy-five percent of the battle, all I have left now is to coax my horse across the finish line."

Greg chuckled; Mycroft's conversation on the way to the restaurant was as charming and clever as ever, with quick quips and snarky responses, Greg found himself completely at ease and the conversation flowing easily. He looked forward to the rest of the evening, the dinner and any events that may follow afterward.

…

The sedan pulled up in front of a posh, but comfortable looking restaurant and the driver in front jumped out of the car, walking quickly to Mycroft's side to let him out. Mycroft turned around to offer Greg a hand out of the car and Greg took it blushing slightly.

When Greg was standing on the pavement beside Mycroft the driver shut the car door and returned to the driver's side.

"I'll be awaiting your call sir," the driver said before opening his door and sliding into the car.

Mycroft nodded almost to himself, but that seemed to be the signal the driver had been looking for because as soon as Greg saw Mycroft give it the car drove off down the street.

"Thank you for dropping off my cruiser," Greg blurted suddenly, finally remembering his manners.

Mycroft smiled down at him, "It was nothing."

Greg chuckled and looked up to tease Mycroft, "Yes I'm sure you tell all the pretty girls that."

"Only the ones with silver hair," Mycroft assured as he began walking toward the front of the restaurant.

Greg was halted by the thought of how surreal it was to have had a purely professional relationship with a man he quite clearly liked for over six years and then all in the blink of an eye that man was offering him rides home from late night crime scenes and taking him out to dinner.

#

Mycroft turned back to look at Gregory frozen next to the spot he had vacated only moments before and smiled warmly at the distracted expression of Gregory's face, clearly lost in thought.

"Are you coming?" He asked softly to break Gregory from his reprieve gently.

Gregory shook his head and looked up into Mycroft's eyes and smiled, Mycroft felt his heart squeeze at the image of Gregory just tumbled from deep within his mind and slightly confused at his surroundings.

"Coming," He replied keeping the smile on his face and walking toward him.

…

Dinner was exquisite and the conversation was even better, the night was quickly turning into something that firmly constituted as better than he had dared to dream and he wondered what the catch could possibly be. Gregory smiled and leaned back in his chair as he finished his dessert, New York Style cheesecake and Mycroft sighed as he picked at his apple tart. It was delicious of course, but he didn't want the night to end and so had taken to eating as slowly as possible, but even though he had worked his way through his penne as slowly as possible it still seemed that there would never be enough bites of whatever food his plate held to prolong forever what had turned into the best dinner and company he had ever had.

Gregory glanced at him worriedly, "Mycroft is the tart not good? I have never seen someone look so down while eating a dessert."

Mycroft looked deep into Gregory's eyes and sighing as he pushed his plate away and took a deep breath before taking a chance and saying, "Gregory would you be open to returning to my flat with me for drinks?"

Gregory looked surprised, but grinned nevertheless, "Sure."

Mycroft smiled warmly at Gregory before lifting his hand to signal the waiter for the check, "Fantastic, I'll pay and we can be on our way."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright ha-blue-blue-bloo agasdfjldksl I just don't know how I feel about this chapter, it was a fight to get out of me and that's why it took so long aside from all the other crap I ended up doing. It was a case of I knew exactly where I wanted to go, but I couldn't seem to get my characters to get their sweet little booties in gear in order to get there.
> 
>  
> 
> I want to point something out for further chapters, Greg Lestrade is Shorter than Mycroft Holmes. The actor Rupert Graves is 5'11" while Mark Gatiss is 6'1" (He's tall too *sigh* could he get any more perfect?) Anyway using these heights Greg is the shorter of the two (though it is a small difference) and I wanted you guys to know this for scenes that involve kissing and such.
> 
> The show Sherlock doesn't belong to me clearly. If it belonged to me there would be a lot more Mystrade...and Johnlock and MorMor....
> 
> Sherlock belongs to Steven Moffat and the exquisite Mark Gatiss...seriously I love that man and Moffat is one of my heroes because he has the power to make people cry.
> 
> Enjoy!

"We're here," Mycroft stated as the Sedan pulled up in front of a large building full of high priced flats.

"Wow," Greg heard himself say and mentally smacked himself; he sounded like some sort of low class slum who had never seen a nice flat before.

You haven't, at least not one this nice.

Shut it, yes I have there was that one where the woman murdered her husband and then killed herself, they had a very nice flat.

…Okay that wasn't the best example.

Greg's inner conflict was halted by the sound of his door opening; he broke off his mental berating of himself to look up into the smirking face of Mycroft Holmes. Greg looked around the car and noticed Mycroft's driver returning to his seat and the clearly empty seat that Mycroft used to occupy.

"Coming Gregory?" Mycroft asked drawing Greg's attention back to him.

Greg looked back at Mycroft and met his eyes before looking away slightly embarrassed and mumbling a, "yes," as he climbed from the backseat of the car.

Greg heard Mycroft shut the door behind him and turned back to see Mycroft leaning over to whisper directions into the passenger-side window of the sedan.

Greg heard a muffled, "thank you Jason," before he saw Mycroft straighten and turn around to face him.

Mycroft moved to walk around Greg and gestured for him to follow. Greg followed Mycroft up the pavement path to the front door the flat complex and once Mycroft opened the door Greg followed him inside.

They took the lift up to the top floor which had a keyhole in the lift to allow a person inside the flat on the other side. By now Greg was quite sure he was out of his league and bested in all counts by Mycroft's living space, job, and general lifestyle, but he knew Mycroft had won when the doors to the lift parted and revealed Mycroft's flat.

Greg took in a sharp breath as Mycroft lead him into the flat and left him to look around while he went to make drinks. Mycroft's flat was a lot like Mycroft himself; dark, sophisticated, handsome, and classic. The furniture consisted of what all appeared to be nothing but the softest buttery black leather while the woodwork was all a dark cherry wood, in short it was perfect which as Gregory was coming to realize was all one should really expect from a man such as Mycroft Holmes.

Mycroft returned with two glasses of a dark red wine held nimbly between his long elegant fingers. Greg shuddered slightly with suppressed desire as fire raced up his arm from where Mycroft's fingers brushed his as he handed Greg his glass.

Greg took a sip of the wine and nodded in approval, "Your flat is nice."

He winced, that had been an understatement and a mediocre conversation starter at best. Mycroft simply chuckled.

"I'm glad you like it, sometimes I do feel as if it's a bit much as if I'm just a product of my upbringing, but that's usually around the time the Prime Minister has to stop by and then I feel quite glad for my rather snobbish upbringing and this flat does tend to impress."

Greg couldn't bring himself to answer, only stare.

"Th-the Prime Minister, as in the of England Prime Minister," Greg asked incredulously.

Mycroft looked at him with a slightly confused frown, "Yes of course, what other Prime Minister would I be talking about?"

Greg only shook his head and produced a slight grin, "Only you would speak so causally about the Prime Minister occasionally popping by your flat for a chat between mates."

Mycroft grinned back at him, "Yes well, if it will ease your mind at all we usually aren't just chatting about our lives, usually its urgent business matters."

"Still," Greg insisted, "the Prime Minister comes here, to your flat, to you, for advice! That's amazing."

"Well thank you Gregory," Mycroft said looking pleased with himself, "Tell me do you wish to stand in my foyer all night or would you prefer to join me in the living room?"

Greg laughed and took another sip of his wine, "I would very much enjoy joining you wherever you wished me to."

#

Mycroft knew Gregory hadn't meant his last line quite the way it had come out. How it had come out sounded flirtatious and husky, what Mycroft knew Gregory had meant was a simple agreement to joining him in the living room, but though his mind knew these things that didn't seem to stop his heart from speeding up just a bit at the teasing light in Gregory's eyes as he followed him to the living room and it didn't stop his body from angling instinctively toward Gregory as they sat down on the small love seat together.

#

Greg watched Mycroft over the rim of his wine glass.

"So how'd you get time off to take me out to dinner?" Greg asked abruptly.

Mycroft turned his head to watch Greg silently for a few moments.

"I mean, I know you're a busy man and you have a bit more that a minor position in the government, so come on tell me, how'd you get off?" Greg continued.

Mycroft smirked at Greg before answering, "I didn't have to pull any major strings or use any top secret connections if that's what you're thinking, it was a simple matter of forwarding all of my calls to Athena and if anything truly major pops up Athena with contact me, but it is up to her to decide what is major and what isn't."

"Is it really so hard a decision for the person involved to make?" Greg asked surprised Athena would even need to consider whether something had to be deemed important or not.

Mycroft smiled a bit condescendingly, "Yes actually, in my business everyone tends to believe that their problem is more important than everyone else's and they can't see to sort out minor problems from major problems, but I'm afraid here is where we'll have to cut off our conversation about my work habits as anything after this point falls into the need-to-know-basis file and frankly, you don't need to know."

Greg nodded; he wasn't offended he understood not being able to share certain details about work; he had the exact same rule for all of his current cases, anyone not working the case was left in the dark for fear of leaks. Though he supposed Mycroft's job was a bit more serious, with his knowledge of most likely large government secrets and all that.

Then Greg's face broke into a grin, "So it's like you'd tell me, but then you'd have to kill me, right?"

Greg expected Mycroft to scoff or not understand the reference altogether so when Mycroft simply nodded and said in a completely serious voice, "Exactly," Greg got just a bit freaked out.

"You can't be serious," he insisted setting his wine on the table next to the couch so he could push himself into a more upright position instead of the slouched one he had started with.

Mycroft sighed and shook his head, "Gregory, I am very serious, now please drop it I really cannot tell you anymore."

Greg opened his mouth to protest, but a dark look from Mycroft had him shutting his mouth again.

"Right," he nodded to himself, "moving on?"

Mycroft smiled and nodded, Greg thought he looked relieved to no longer be discussing his work.

"Alright, you pick a topic," Greg invited settling back into a more comfortable position in the couch now that the tense moment had passed.

Mycroft turned his body away and seemed to flounder for a topic for a few moments before he turned back to Greg grinning, "Well it is your turn to interrogate me."

Greg grinned, "I suppose it is, well since you last interrogated me about my relationships I think I'll pick that topic for you as well, so do you, uh have anyone? What about Athena, anything going on there?"

#

Mycroft found himself frozen which was an uncommon an unpleasant experience as he had ever dealt with. Gregory was interested in his love life; did this mean he was interested in him? He had asked about Athena was Gregory interested in Athena?

Mycroft forced himself to take a deep breath and think for a moment, Gregory interested in Athena was preposterous, Gregory doesn't know Athena. Gregory doesn't know Athena well, Mycroft's mind reminded him. He may still wish to get to know her better. Mycroft shook his head, no it's still preposterous, Athena wouldn't date Gregory. Mycroft chuckled at himself quietly and looked up into the eyes of a confused Gregory.

"Did I ask something funny?" Gregory asked perplexed.

"No," Mycroft said quickly holding up his hand that didn't have a wine glass in it in a stopping motion before bringing it back down to his leg to rub soothing circles, "well kind of," he admitted.

"What was it?" Gregory asked turning his head to the side slightly in the most endearing confused puppy look Mycroft had ever seen.

"Well the idea of Athena and I," Mycroft broke off in a chuckle, "Oh dear no," Mycroft finished and didn't elaborate just chuckled to himself quietly for a few minutes.

Gathering himself back together Mycroft said, "Sorry, but just the thought of Athena and I, it's preposterous. I quite prefer men and she quite prefers her blackberry."

Mycroft watched Gregory's face pull into a grimace, "Well that's not much of a love life," he said seeming to feel sorry for Athena.

"Oh no, she chose it for herself, I'd allow her to date if she wanted to."

#

Greg shook his head, he felt sort of sorry for Athena, but as his mind replayed his and Mycroft's conversation his brain got caught on something, "Wait you said you're gay?"

Mycroft nodded slowly like he though Greg was stupid, "Yes, I wondered when you did pick up on that, if it would be a problem for you or not."

Greg eyes widened in horror, "Oh dear god, no, it's not a problem for me, I'm just surprised!"

Mycroft grinned, "Yes because these suit-vest combos are really screaming heterosexual."

Greg laughed, "Mycroft Holmes, the more I know you, the funnier I realize you are."

"Yes well I do try to pick up a few jokes a week just for you," Mycroft replied sarcastically and Greg burst into uncontrollable giggled while he watched Mycroft just watch him with a slightly confused expression.

"You really find me humorous?" He asked carefully.

Greg nodded, "Of course who wouldn't?"

"Sherlock insists my humor is too dry and the politicians I see on a regular basis think it's too I suppose the term would be wet," Mycroft admitted to Greg, "So actually I believe you'll find a lot of people don't find me as humorous as you seem to think I am."

Greg shook his head as a small grin appeared on his face, "Well clearly they don't know what they're missing."

"Thank you," Mycroft said smiling back at Greg.

They sat on the couch smiling at each other for a few more moments before Greg shook his head, "But back to what we were saying, I would never have a problem with you being gay, I'm sorry you thought you had to hide it."

Mycroft nodded, "Thank you for saying so, though I by no means hid it from you, I simply haven't found anyone worth my time in recent years and so there's been no need to bring it up."

Greg nodded and leaned back into the couch picking up his wine and taking another sip before looking back to Mycroft and saying quietly, "You're leading quite a lonely existence too."

#

Mycroft froze, his drink halfway tilted toward his mouth. He recovered quickly enough though and managed to take a calming sip of wine before turning back to look at Gregory. What he found there though, unnerved him; Gregory's soft brown eyes shining with kindness and warmth watching him and waiting for his answer.

"Yes," Mycroft finally allowed with a slight tilt of his head.

"You must have some crazy standards if no one in this city could tempt you," Gregory said laughing at his own joke.

Mycroft forced a laugh from his throat though to his ears it sounded more sad than amused.

"I suppose you could say that," he said, "though in truth there was someone, but he's married." Mycroft finished with a sad sigh.

#

"Oh," Greg replied lamely his mind going blank of conversation topics as he pondered who could have managed to draw Mycroft's romantic affections.

#

Mycroft watched Gregory's face go slack as he concentrated on a thought deep within his subconscious.

"Gregory," Mycroft said softly, drawing Gregory from his thoughts.

#

Greg looked up torn from his thoughts by Mycroft's soft voice.

"Yes," he asked softly.

"Are you sure you don't mind," Mycroft asked and Greg knew exactly what he was talking about.

Greg sighed; to make Mycroft feel better he was going to have to share one of his most kept secrets.

"Mycroft, I'm sure I don't mind and I don't want to hear anymore worry about it because Mycroft I'm, dang it Mycroft I'm bisexual!" Greg said forcefully panting slightly from the force in which he said the words and his raised heart rate from worry over what Mycroft might think.

#

Mycroft paused to stare at Gregory, had he just said- what he- yes he had.

"You're bisexual?" Mycroft asked carefully, watching Gregory flush furiously.

"Yes, that's what I said," Gregory answered nodding.

"Okay," Mycroft said awkwardly.

"Okay," Gregory parroted.

#

The room was silent for a long amount of time before either of them spoke again.

"Gregory," Mycroft said looking anywhere, but at Greg.

"Yes?" Greg asked staring at his drink clasped tightly in his hands.

He heard Mycroft take what could only be described as a deep calming breath before Mycroft said softly, "It was you."

Greg froze, had he just heard Mycroft say that? Or was his mind playing tricks on him? Was he hearing things now? Greg forced his muscles to relax so he could turn his neck to look at Mycroft properly.

"What?" Greg asked dumbfounded.

Mycroft made a distressed noise in the back of his throat and stood from the couch moving until he was across the room and able to pace in the space surrounding the telly and fireplace.

"Well, I've already started this confession it won't do me any good until I've finished it," he heard Mycroft say as he faced the fireplace, Greg opened his mouth to ask what he was talking about, but before he could Mycroft turned and began talking again.

"It was you Gregory, the man that I fancied," Mycroft broke off and laughed, "I always believed that I'd have no chance, because you-after all-clearly aren't gay, right? But that didn't stop me from wishing, just for a chance and then you're getting divorced and we go out to dinner and eventually here you are sitting on my couch and we're having a nice conversation and I decide to spring it on you that I'm gay and then I proceed to become hysterical because surely you wouldn't accept me being gay. I believed I must have scared you away, but you don't tell me goodbye, you look at me with those big brown eyes and I don't see disgust, I see acceptance, but I can't accept that so I still worry and to make me feel better you tell me a secret of yours, that you're bisexual and I couldn't help, but feel hope. Which lead me to making this long winded confession that you, yes you are the man that caught my eye all those years back and you're the reason no man has measured up since."

Greg was frozen staring at Mycroft, his mouth hanging open. He knew this wasn't an attractive facial expression, so why was he doing it? Shut your mouth! His mind commanded and yet still he sat there staring at Mycroft, taking in the almost manic energy he was throwing off, it reminded him of Sherlock.

Mycroft groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Fantastic, he won't even talk to me," Greg heard him mutter which was enough to snap him from his reprieve.

"No, Mycroft I-I'm just surprised," Greg said standing up from the couch and placing his glass down on the table next to him.

"I'm shocked actually," Greg admitted.

"Yes, well it's not every day you have someone professing his attraction to you in his own flat, effectively giving himself nowhere to run, he can't leave, he can't hide, it's a stupid tactical decision all around."

Greg laughed, "I still can't believe people don't find you funny."

Mycroft smiled for a moment before it slipped back off his face and the atmosphere around them recharged with tension.

What should I do? Should I tell him? Of course you should bloody tell him, he just confessed to fancying you, are you going to leave him hanging?

But I'm not sure if I should get into another relationship right now.

Just tell him.

Greg sighed, "Mycroft, I have a bit of a confession myself."

Greg rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I…well I've always sort of fancied you a-a bit," Greg admitted looking up and smiling shyly at Mycroft.

#

Mycroft felt as if the world around him had frozen. Gregory had feelings similar to his, but Gregory had been married for years. Gregory had fancied him while he was with his wife, that's why…

"That's why you aren't overly upset about leaving your wife, she's cheating on you, but emotionally you've been unattached to her for years."

Gregory let out a shuddery laugh, "Yeah, sort of. This is why I like Holmes' I don't need to explain myself, I just have to give you a tiny piece of information and you can figure the rest out on your own."

#

"I would hope you do not like all Holmes' in the same way, we are all handy, but for different things," Mycroft said, raising an eyebrow.

Greg laughed, "Yes Mycroft I get what you're saying, some Holmes' are good for solving crimes and others are better used for shagging senseless."

Greg stopped and covered his flushed face with his hands, "Oh dear lord," he breathed in embarrassment.

"Gregory, it's alright," Mycroft soothed, "remember I'm attracted to you too."

Greg peered through his fingers at Mycroft, "But do you really want me talking about shagging you senseless?"

Mycroft chuckled, "No you're right," Greg's shoulders slumped in defeat before Mycroft finished, "I'd rather you were doing it."

Greg peeled his hands from his face in shock, "Really?"

Mycroft nodded, "Of course, I am attracted to you after all and you are now separated and will soon be divorced, I see no reason for us to not see each other."

Greg looked at Mycroft for a long time before giggling.

"What's so funny?" Mycroft asked confused.

"You're just, so matter-of-fact," Greg paused to snort, "About everything, you just made a perfect business meeting argument on why we should be shagging and," Greg could hold it together no longer and dissolved into peals of laughter.

After his giggles stopped and he had a moment to collect himself, Greg wiped his eyes and straightened his back, "Sorry about that," he apologized.

Mycroft wore a confused expression, but said, "Its fine take your time," anyway.

Once Greg had collected himself he finished his sentence, "As I was saying you've just made a perfect business argument on why we could be shagging and I'll admit… I see no reason we aren't doing so right now."

With that Greg walked across the room toward Mycroft. He continued stepping closer until his body was pressed against Mycroft's. He tilted his head upward slightly while Mycroft angled his head downward, their lips met in the gentlest of brushes.

Greg lifted his arms and wrapped them around Mycroft's neck as Mycroft dipped his tongue out to tease the entrance of Greg's mouth. Greg parted his lips with a soft moan and Mycroft wrapped his arms around Greg's waist. Their tongues met and twisted together.

#

Mycroft marveled at the sweet taste of Gregory combined with the heady taste of his wine. Mycroft walks Gregory back from the center of the room until he has him pressed against the interior wall of his flat.

Mycroft is distracted from the kiss by Gregory's hands slipping down from their embrace of Mycroft's neck to skim over the surface of his suit jacket. Eventually they slip up his torso again and down over his lapels until they reach the button holding his suit jacket closed and Gregory's swift fingers push the button back through its loop. Mycroft takes this opportunity to slip out of his suit coat, stepping away to drape the jacket elegantly over the back of a chair before returning to Gregory.

#

Greg watches Mycroft walking back to him and moves to meet him. Their mouths meet again, but this time it's less gentle. Mycroft is pushing him back against the wall again and for a moment Greg let's his mind to move away from the passion to remark that Mycroft must like having Greg pressed up against a wall.

His mind is pulled away from that thought as Mycroft kisses away from Greg's mouth and down his neck. Mycroft nips at the hollow under Greg's jawbone and then licks a trail over to Greg's ear. Greg allows his eyes to shut and his head to fall back giving Mycroft more access for whatever he's about to do next.

What Mycroft decides to do next is to take Greg's earlobe into his mouth and suck, using his teeth to scrape and pull playfully. Mycroft's hands haven't stopped moving though and while Greg clutches at Mycroft's back his hands have slipped down tracing Greg's spine until they reached and grabbed Greg's arse pulling his hips forward against Mycroft's.

"Oh god, Mycroft," Greg moaned and immediately he felt his face flush, he sounded like a teenager.

Mycroft delivered one last suck to Greg's ear before pulling away and Greg buried his head in the taller man's shoulder.

"Gregory, look at me," Mycroft commanded and Greg felt his head rising of its own accord before he could command it to stay down.

He looked into Mycroft's eyes and felt a rush of heat flash through his stomach; Mycroft's pupils were blown wide with desire so that only a small sliver of his true eye color could be seen around the edge and suddenly Greg understood what Mycroft was trying to tell him. He didn't need to be embarrassed by the fact that he was aroused, they were both aroused, they both wanted each other and the only thing left to do was to act on their desires.

Greg smiled up at Mycroft and held out his hand, "Show me to your room."

Mycroft smiled and brushed a kiss against Greg's lips as he turned and began to walk back toward his room.

#

Mycroft had been worried Gregory didn't want this, would never want this with Mycroft, and now that he knew he could in fact have this sort of relationship with Gregory, Mycroft wanted to make everything perfect.

#

Mycroft lead him through what felt like miles of impressive flat before they reached the room that Greg assumed was Mycroft's bedroom due to the fact that this was the last door in this particular hallway. Mycroft twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open indicating for Greg to step into the room before him. Greg did and drew in a breath casting his eyes around the room trying to take in every detail.

Mycroft's room consisted of a large bathroom connected by French doors on the far left side of the room, a large vanity sat on the wall just outside the bathroom doors, the entire room was adorned in deep royal blues and greens, and the view to the right was of the city scape. Greg had saved looking at the bed for the last for two reasons. The first was he was rather nervous about what was to come next, he hadn't had sex in a long time, hadn't had male on male sex in longer and the other reason was he was saving the best part for last.

The bed didn't disappoint. It was a large, high legged wooden four poster bed with a dark duvet cover and large pillows. Greg wanted to run to it, plop down, and shout for Mycroft to take him, but he knew he should probably show a bit more decorum, at least for their first time.

"This is beautiful," Greg complimented turning to smile at Mycroft whose eyes quickly snapped up from ogling his arse to meet Greg's eyes.

Greg blushed, but with an extra swing in his hips walked over to Mycroft's bed and sat down turning a raised brow to Mycroft still standing in the doorway.

"Coming?" Greg asked letting the double entendre float through the air.

Mycroft stood still for a few moments before gathering himself and walking into the room.

"Not yet," he answered calmly as he loosened his tie and slipped it over his head.

Greg turned his head as Mycroft walked over to the large vanity and placed his tie down before he slipped his ring off and began unbuttoning his waistcoat. Once unbuttoned Mycroft slipped from the garment and turned back to Greg bringing his hands up to begin unbuttoning his shirt.

Greg slipped from his position on the bed and walked over to Mycroft. Grabbing his hands Greg stopped Mycroft's hands from unbuttoning his shirt and pushed them down and away. Greg then picked up where Mycroft had left off and finished unbuttoning Mycroft's shirt the rest of the way.

Mycroft grabbed the back of Greg's head with his hand and pushed his head forward meeting Greg's lips with his own. Greg moaned and parted Mycroft's shirt with his hands, sliding them underneath the cool white material to feel Mycroft's skin. Mycroft pulled back and Greg took the opportunity to take in the sight of Mycroft's pale, toned stomach.

Mycroft grabbed Greg's chin and tilted his head back up so he could press his lips to Greg's, for only a moment the kiss was just a soft brushing of their lips against each other, but then Mycroft using his other hand reached between them and cupped Greg through his trousers.

Greg moaned into Mycroft's mouth and placed his hand flat on Mycroft's lower abdomen. He then slid his hand up, keeping it flat until he brushed against one of Mycroft's nipples. Breaking the kiss and pushing Mycroft's shirt further open Greg lowered his head and placed a kiss just above one nipple before swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub. A breath of air hissed out from between Mycroft's teeth while both of his hands moved to Greg's belt buckle.

Once Mycroft had undone Greg's belt Greg felt his hands at his waist and then at the zip of his trousers. There was a soft sound as zipper teeth parted and then Mycroft was pushing Greg's trousers down over his hips and sliding his hands to Greg's arse, clad only in the thin material of his boxers.

#

Mycroft squeezed Gregory's arse appreciatively, he finally had him where he had wanted to have him for so long and the feeling was perfect. Gregory's mouth was wicked working over Mycroft's chest, his tongue lapping at each nipple and his lips pressing kisses against his bare skin on the path searching for new skin to taste.

When Gregory finally seems done with tasting him, Mycroft removed his hands from Gregory's arse with on last squeeze before moving to work on the buttons of Gregory's shirt. He smiled at each inch of Gregory's skin being revealed and is so focused on undressing Gregory that he doesn't feel Gregory's hands at his waist until he feels he zipper of his trousers parting.

Mycroft finishes unbuttoning Gregory's shirt and begins to push the material off his shoulders. Grabbed Gregory's hands, Mycroft forces them to the side and away from his waist so he can push Gregory's shirt all the way off his shoulders and to the floor.

#

Greg is standing shirtless and aroused with his trousers perched precariously on his hips and he feels that Mycroft should be at least as naked and aroused as he, possibly more. Moving backward Greg kicks off his shoes and socks before giving Mycroft a come hither look before turning around and walking to the bed.

#

Mycroft watched as Gregory gave him a look of pure seduction before wandering over to sit on his bed and Mycroft wishes to follow suit, but knows he should not until his shirt and trousers are off and placed somewhere they won't wrinkle. Sex, even if it is with Gregory Lestrade is no excuse for wrinkled laundry.

Mycroft turns back around to finish undressing himself. As he removes his shoes and socks he can feel Gregory's eyes on him and as he slips from his trousers, folds them at the knee, and places them in the small hamper beside his vanity with care; he can still feel them on his as he removes his shirt and places it in the hamper beside the vanity as well.

"Do you always take this long to get undressed?" Gregory complains from the bed.

"On no," Mycroft assured and Gregory gave a sound of pleasure before Mycroft could finish with a smirk, "Most of the time I take much longer."

The only answer Mycroft hears is Gregory's groan before he turns around is and greeted by what is quite close to being to most beautiful sight in the world. Gregory is lying back on his bed, hair tussled, prompted up on his elbows, nearly naked, and clearly aroused beneath his boxers, as Mycroft said, almost the most beautiful sight in the world.

Mycroft moved forward and crawled onto the bed, one knee between Gregory's legs pressed against his evident arousal as he kisses him deeply.

"I've waited so long for this," Mycroft murmured against Gregory's lips and then kisses away down his neck and chest until he reaches the path of skin above the elastic of Gregory's boxers.

Mycroft looks up into Gregory's eyes, searching for his answer, Gregory's gazes back and Mycroft is sure he sees what he's looking for, but he can't be sure unless he asks, "Are you sure?"

#

"Are you sure?" Greg hears Mycroft ask and he is struck by how perfect the man above him is, no other man would have asked Greg this, if they had gotten this far they would have just assumed Greg was still onboard and taken what they wanted, but Mycroft isn't just another man and so Greg smiles at him a nods.

"Of course I'm sure; we wouldn't have gone this far if I wasn't."

Mycroft nodded almost to himself before grinning up at Greg from his position near Greg's waist line. He then moved down to just above the jutting head of Greg's cock sticking up causing an embarrassing tent in his boxers. He smiled once more at Greg before darting his tongue out to give a solid stroke of his tongue to the underside of the head of Greg's cock. Greg moaned and shut his eyes until he felt Mycroft moving away.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Patience Gregory," Mycroft chided before moving to the bottom of Greg's boxers and grasping the hem between his teeth and pulling down them down.

#

Mycroft admired Gregory's cock as it was revealed; first the coarse black pubic hair, next the slightly darker skin of the thick base, and lastly Gregory's weeping tip as his cock sprang up finally freed from its confines. Mycroft carefully kissed a path up Gregory's thighs and buried his head between Gregory's thighs to nibble gently at Gregory's scrotum.

"M-Mycroft," Gregory moaned and the small noise caused fiery desire to burn low in his stomach.

Mycroft smiled and moved higher to lap at the head of Gregory's cock.

#

Greg could hardly stand it, Mycroft with his teasing touches wasn't making Greg's desire any better in fact he was making it worse. Mycroft's mouth sank around the head of his cock and Greg moaned, but he could hardly stand the teasing stroke of Mycroft's tongue against his cock. The entire situation was frustrating.

"You're a bastard, you know that," Greg snarled.

Mycroft raised his head to look into Greg's eyes with a smirk upon his lips, "Am I?" he asked pleasantly.

"Yes, stop teasing me," Greg groaned as Mycroft wrapped his long fingers around his cock and stroked slowly.

"What would you propose I do differently?" Mycroft asked and Greg could see from the teasing glint in his eyes that he was only playing with him, but Greg didn't care.

"Fuck me, now," Greg demanded, his hips thrusting of their own accord into Mycroft's hand.

Mycroft grinned a slimy politician's grin at him and purred, "With the upmost pleasure."

Mycroft launched himself forward and smashed his lips to Greg's before pulling away and moving to kneel at the side of the bed so he can open his side table drawer and pluck from its highly organized contents a condom and a small squeeze bottle of lube.

Mycroft moved back across the back to Greg and smiled placing a gentle kiss on Greg's lips before slipping quickly from his boxers, Greg could feel his mouth water when Mycroft finally revealed his cock and Greg couldn't wait to feel it buried deep inside him.

Mycroft kneeled between his legs as Greg spread them lewdly and canted his hips up to present Mycroft with his tight entrance. Mycroft snatched a pillow from the head of the bed and placed it under Greg's hips.

#

Squirting a generous amount of lube into his hands, Mycroft coated his fingers and slipped one between the cheeks of Gregory's arse before pushing against his entrance. There was quite a bit of resistance from which Mycroft could tell it had been a long time for Gregory which made sense as he had been-still was-married to a woman. Pulling back so as to not hurt Gregory Mycroft massaged at his entrance for a few moments before trying to push again.

This time it was easier to push his finger inside and once he had pushed it in an acceptable amount Mycroft paused to give Gregory time to adjust. Gregory nodded at him that he was ready and Mycroft began thrusting his fingers in and out, after a while Mycroft added a second finger and began to scissor them apart stretching Gregory's inner muscles.

#

Greg had forgotten how uncomfortable being stretched after a long time could feel, but it was starting to feel pleasurable with the skilled hands of Mycroft inside him and then Greg felt Mycroft's fingers hook inside him and they brushed against that wonderful bundle of nerves and he moaned loudly.

Mycroft smirked down at him and pressed against his prostate again, "Oh jesus, Mycroft!" Greg gasped.

"Good," Mycroft asked sweetly.

"Yes bloody good, fuck me," Greg demanded.

"Patience," Mycroft smiled and removed his fingers after pressing one last time against Greg's prostate.

#

Ripping the condom packet with his teeth Mycroft rolled it on and squirting lubricant into his hand he slicked himself hissing slightly as he was finally touched after having this particular erection for so long.

Mycroft settled himself between Gregory's legs and grabbed Gregory's hips pulling him closer until the head of Mycroft's cock could press against his entrance. Mycroft's eyes met Gregory's and he was struck by how marvelous Gregory looked, his eyes were dark brown but sparking with desire and his cock was erect and bobbing slightly, Mycroft decided that this, this right here before him was the most beautiful sight he would ever see. Gregory nodded letting him know it was okay to push inside. He pressed inside Gregory slowly and gasped at the tight heat that encircled his cock in a warm fist.

He had pushed halfway in before he stopped giving Gregory time to adjust and himself time to get a grip on his control. His and Gregory's eyes had stayed locked the entire time he pressed into him and when he was ready Gregory nodded again and Mycroft pressed the full way inside stopping again for Gregory to get reacquainted with the feeling of being filled.

#

"Mycroft move now," Greg moaned thrusting up against Mycroft after he had adjusted to Mycroft's cock deep inside him.

Breath rushed from Mycroft's lungs in a rush as he straightened from holding himself still and pulled almost all the way out of Greg before pushing back in.

"Finally," Greg moaned as they began their rhythm, slowly at first but building quickly.

Eventually Mycroft changed the angle of his thrusts and began brushing Gregory's prostate each time he reentered him fully.

"Oh god, Mycroft," Greg moaned reaching up to grab the back of Mycroft's head and pulling Mycroft's face down so they could kiss roughly.

#

Mycroft allowed his tongue to explore Gregory's mouth as he snapped his hips forward harder to meet Gregory's thrusts, anything to get him just an inch deeper within Gregory.

"Fuck Mycroft," Gregory whispered against his lips as they both dissolved their kiss into breathless open mouthed pants.

"Gregory, you're perfect," Mycroft moaned, his mind knew he was being too sentimental for a first time, but his body and heart didn't care.

Mycroft's rhythm began to falter as he approached orgasm and he reached between them to wrap a hand around Gregory's cock and stroke it with quick hard pulls. It took only a few strokes for Gregory to cry out and send warm liquid arching across their stomachs.

As Gregory cried out his release his inner muscles started clenching, gripping warmer and tighter around Mycroft and with one last hard thrust inside Gregory Mycroft came groaning Gregory's name and planting his arms on opposite sides of his body to hold himself up.

#

They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment before Greg cracked a smile and whispered, "Wow."

Mycroft grinned down at him and pulled out collapsing beside him on the bed, "Wow indeed," Mycroft muttered pressing a kiss to Greg's neck.

They laid there in bed for a few minutes before Mycroft got up and walked to his bathroom. Greg heard a tap run and we Mycroft came back he was no longer wearing a condom and he was holding a hand towel. Mycroft walked over to him an pressed the towel to his stomach Greg felt a warm wetness and when Mycroft removed the towel his stomach was no longer covered in his own release.

Mycroft walked back to the bathroom and Greg watched his naked arse retreating and smiled, he had wanted to do this very thing for so long if felt like a dream that it had actually happened. Then Greg remembered his dream from last night and he groaned. Mycroft returned and walked back to the bed scooping Greg into his arms and pulling the covers over them.

"What?" He asked curiously.

"This is a dream," Greg groaned.

Mycroft chuckled, "This is most certainly not a dream."

"Has to be," Greg yawned, "Too perfect."

#

Mycroft could see no other way around this so Mycroft reached under the covers and pinched Gregory's arse cheek.

Gregory yelped, "What was that for?" he demanded.

"Not a dream," Mycroft said simply and pressed a kiss to Gregory's neck again.

Gregory chuckled, "Alright not a dream I agree."

"I'm glad," Mycroft grinned as he pulled Gregory into his arms and tucked his head under Mycroft's own.

"G'night," Gregory yawned snuggling back against Mycroft.

Mycroft sighed, content at the moment.

"Good night Gregory," Mycroft whispered placing a kiss into Gregory's silver hair.

They both fell asleep quickly and had no need for dreaming, everything they wanted had already happened that night.

Across the city two dark men spoke, one snarled in anger while the other tried and failed to keep him calm.


End file.
